Girlfriends & Boyfriends-The Lost Episode: What If
by Saphron
Summary: WHAT IF…Nick really had made a move instead of singing to Lindsay? What if Sam had ended up as Cindy's partner instead of Bill? Would things have ended up different? Chalk full of surprises, miscommunication, crashed loves and angst, welcome to the live
1. Intuition and Things Lurking at the Back...

**__**

Girlfriends and Boyfriends-The Lost Episode: What If…

By Saphron

Summery: What if…what if Nick really had made a move instead of singing to Lindsay? What if Sam had ended up as Cindy's partner instead of Bill? Would things have ended up different? Chalk full of surprises, miscommunication, crashed loves and angst, welcome to the life of our two favorite Wiers…

All commentary and constructive criticism welcome. (Reviews + Love of writing = Future Chapters!)

Disclaimer: Not mine (sigh), everything belongs to whoever made the show, I take no credit.

~*~

****

Prologue: Welcome to hell-high, please check any remains of your self-esteem at the door and proceed to the next line. Thank you, and have a nice day!

Her footsteps were lost among the noise and chatter of hallway 101, the most challenging obstacle course since military camp was invented. Dodging prattling people, obtrusive backpacks, and the occasional falling book or swinging locker door, Lindsay finally made it to her destination--the burnout patio.

Pulling a strand of hair back behind her ear as she always did when slightly nervous, she looked up and spotted her friends, aka: the freaks, gathered in their usual spot. Ken sat staring bitterly at nothing as he always did, as Daniel and Kim went through their daily make-out routine. Then there was Nick. Sweet, adorable, Nick, whom she had kissed the day before in a rush of passion and pity. Needless to say there was a slight reason to be nervous.

He waved, grinned, and stood up to greet her. She smiled back at him somewhat shyly; after all, this guy had given her well, her first _real_ kiss. (She didn't count her father's friend's twenty-year-old nephew on leave from the Marines visiting at Christmas, who after one too many spiked-egg-nogg planted a wet sloppy one right on her lips under the mistletoe.) She caught no trace of nervousness or apprehensive from him however, other than a slightly excessive amount of thigh slapping, as if he was hitting an invisible drum. He gestured to a seat next to him, as Kim stopped playing tonsil hokey with Daniel long enough to shoot them both a weird look. Nick just kept on smiling. He smiled all through the day at her, and eventually she lost her apprehension. After all, it was just one silly little kiss, and he was still her friend. But god he was cute when he smiled at her like that.

It wasn't long before a relationship evolved from that one kiss. Well, as much of a relationship that _can_ evolve over a few days. They were teased unmercifully by their friends, especially Kim, who seemed to find the entire situation hilarious. But Lindsay was happy. Or so she thought. Sure she had liked Daniel…but Nick was great too. He was cute, and sweet, and musically talented, well ok, more like musically lacking…but the point was he tried his hardest. And it wasn't like he was just second best, it wasn't as if she was only dating him because she couldn't have Daniel…yet the vague sense of guilt refused to leave her, and that might possibly could have contributed to the mess she had gotten herself in…

~

"And now you will be assigned lab partners," everyone perked up in their seats at these all-important words. Lab partners were one of the few things that excited the students in the classroom. For these few simple words were filled with endless possibilities, from extreme luck, to extreme horror. The best and worse case scenarios ranged from being partnered with your crush, to be partnered with the class-geek, voted most unpopular…or most smelly. And today came the trial, in all its glory and splendor, the assigning of lab-partners.

"Ah, let's see…Bill, who should I partner you with?" Bill stared off into space, mouth hung slightly open, wearing the same dopey expression on his face he always wore. "Neal, Sam? No, I think it would be nice to be partnered with someone who isn't really a friend, so you can meet new people. Ah, how about Gordon Crisp? Yes, Bill and Gordon, you two are partners."

From the look of it, it didn't appeared Bill cared much either way, but a look of slight disgust actually crossed his face when Gordon plopped down next to him, books, pencils, stench and all.

"And Sam…Sam and…" Please oh please, Sam whispered reverently, even holding his hands together underneath his desk in prayer formation. "Cindy Saunders!" Cindy? Could it really be _the_ Cindy, his Cindy, smart and nice and SO beautiful…perfect Cindy? And yes! Score! There she was taking the seat next to him! This was his lucky day! Or so he thought…

~*~

****

Ch.1 -Sometimes Intuition is Right…and _always_ avoid the back of the fridge.

"Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!" Lindsay said with a flourishing half-sigh. She tossed the brush onto her bed and glanced at the clock. It was almost time to leave for Nick's, for their first official date. She had been nervous all day, more than nervous actually. For some strange reason the absolutely insane, utterly absurd notion that he might want to have sex with her tonight had entered her head and despite her best efforts, refused to leave. And of course, her business was never her own, and everyone had managed to put in a good opinion. Between Mr. Rosso's usual non-helpful, not to mention slightly traumatizing, advice, and Millie's god-fearing sermon, along with her own parents over-sharing hour, Linsdey felt as if she was being torn limb from limb by a pack of rabid jackals. Her parents, God, her old goodie-two-shoes life was about to crash headlong into her new, wild, what-in-the-hell-happens-now life, and all she knew was that disastrous consequences were bound to follow.

Throwing on her sweater for the final look (and something she vaguely noted was much harder to get on than a jacket) and muttering under her breath, "Korean prostitute, for Christsakes," she left her nice, safe, secure bedroom, and entered a world filled with possibilities, and peril. 

~

Sam nervously appraised himself in the mirror. Did this shirt look all right? Did he look fat in it? Uck, better change it quick before--DING DONG--too late! The shirt would just have to do; Cindy was here, at his house. Cindy was at his house. The thought gave him the goosebumps. The good kind though.

"SA-AM!" His mother called from downstairs, "YOUR LITTLE FRIEND CINDY'S HERE!" Note to self; never, ever let your mother answer the door for you. Nonetheless Sam bolted out his room, down the hall, through the doorway, and slowed to a sudden stop. He didn't want her to think he was too eager or anything, cause, like, he wasn't, seriously. 

"Oh hey Sam," she smiled at him, "nice shirt." Hear that? She said he had a nice shirt! That translated to she thought he was a good dresser, which translated to he was cool, which translated to she perhaps just possibly maybe might like him…

"Oh, ah, thanks." Then remembering that he didn't want to make it so obvious he liked her, and remembering some old John Travolta movies his mother had made him watch as she oohed and awed at John's tight black T-shirt, he added a, "what this old thing?"

She laughed her beautiful tinkling laugh that always managed to turn Sam into a mold of jelly…

"Um, so you want something to drink?"

"Actually I was thinking we should start on this science project right away…it'll take awhile to complete."

"Oh, oh yea, good idea, um, my rooms down the hall if you want to study in there (now his palms were sweating SO bad…Cindy…in his bedroom…) or, um, the kitchen works too I guess." Why was he so awkward? It's just a girl, he told himself, just a girl, just a girl, just a GODDESS!

"On second thought, could we maybe have some carrot sticks and celery? I'm so bad, I just can't get started without a snack!"

Sam smiled. This was going to be a beautiful night.

~

OK, it was official, now she was nervous. No, make that panicked. She was alone, in a basement, with a guy she hardly knew (now that she really thought about it), with no chance of emergency rescue. And he was smiling! Smiling a carefree, happy smile. So ok, what did she do? Right, well, to avoid any 'awkward' situations, always trying instituting the conversation!

"You wanna make-out or something?" Stupid thing to say, very stupid. Of course he'd say yes, what guy in his right mind would turn down a free make-out session.

"Well…I was gonna sing you this song, but ok let's make-out instead." Uh-oh. While she personally had nothing against kissing, she had a) never really done it before except that one time she 'jumped him' (as Kim called it) b) therefore didn't really know how…c) Millie's voice played in her head like a record, "who will buy the cow if they can get the milk for free?"

He moved closer, still grinning, and encircled his arms around her waist. She felt herself lightly pressing against him as he began to kiss her gently, then more passionately. She fell into the kiss with something akin to excitement and dread. His tongue explored her mouth as she felt a sudden rush of grossness, yet strangely mingled with pleasure. And then he started exploring with his hands, and she let him. She was too nervous and too shy to say no. And he was SO cute…and he obviously liked her--a lot. How would he feel if she suddenly pulled away? Besides it was just second base, no harm, she could live with that…

Ten minutes later her all her clothes were scattered across the room, and a tiny shocked voice was inside her head screaming, "_Oh my GOD!--What have I done?!?!?_"

~

Sam tried unsuccessfully to cover a yawn; it was 9:27, twenty-seven minutes past his bedtime. But then again, John Travolta didn't need a bedtime…so neither did he.

"Yea, I'm tired too," Cindy agreed with his silent sign of exhaustion. "But we got a lot done, I really think we work together well."

Sam glowed inside; he was pleased. This entire night had gone smoothly…Cindy was a goddess, no doubt. Of course, they had spent most of their time researching, reading, and writing, so it wasn't exactly like a date (not that Sam knew what exactly one did on a real date) but still; it was quality time spent with his beloved.

"I don't know about you, but I could sure use a break."

"Oh yea, me too, um how bout a snack?" He offered.

"Sure, then afterwards I can call my parents to come pick me up."

The two wandered into the kitchen, waving to Mrs. Wier as she finished her milk and left for bed with a "hope you're almost done, kids."

A small blast of chilly air met him as he opened the refrigerator door. "We can have grape juice and cookies? My mom kinda finished off the milk."

"Hey works for me, I'll get the cookies."

"Um, let's see…where is the juice…juice…ah-ha! Here in the way back, that's weird. Oh well, hey Cindy can ya grab some cups too?"

"Sure." Sam tipped an imaginary bowler on his head and played the role of gentleman, "care for some juice madam?" Cindy laughed at his antics and sipped from her cup. "Hey this is really good juice…it's a lot more tangy than the kind my mom buys."

"Well we shop at a health store so y'know."

Ten minutes later…

"Ay sssay Cindy m'dear, care fer s'more jerce?"

She threw her head back and roared with laughter, as if Sam was the funniest guy in the world, "dun mind fer 'nutter glasssss er twe meself!"

The two were unknowingly drunk as hell. Hey, well, that's wine! I mean, erm, life…that's life…

~

Lindsay woke up the next morning and yawned lazily, her eyes still closed. Upon opening them and realizing her surroundings, she sat up with a gasp, clutching the sheets to her bare body. Her mouth was still hanging open when the guy lying next to her stirred and awoke.

"Hey beautiful," he smiled at her. Rubbing his eyes and he sat up and planted a kiss on her cheek, "told ya you'd have fun with me."

She didn't respond to that last comment. She was still in minor shock. Thoughts were racing through her head fast as wildfire…and none of them seemed to make any sense at all. However one thought stuck out of them all, a thought so horrible, so grim, so death-defyingly awful, she visibly paled. Her PARENTS!

With that one and only omnipotent thought to guide her she quickly leapt out from beneath the covers and snatched her clothes off the floor. She was dimly conscious of Nick's eyes on her exposed back as she struggled into her pants (never had the zipper been harder to zip. Stupid ice-cream cake at her sixteenth birthday.)

"What's wrong?"

"I've just gotta go before my parents kill me," she muttered quickly, diving for her bra, which to her great embarrassment was sitting atop a lava lamp. Pushing humiliation aside for later (ie: a very tearful reunion with her diary) she snatched her sweater and shoes.

"Hey just chill Linds, it's gonna be alright." He tried vainly to reassure her. 

"But you don't know my parents," she said worriedly, "they still believe that sex comes with marriage. God they're gonna _kill_ me!" It was then panic hit her in a full tidal wave surge, as she closed her eyes and wished she were anywhere from where she was. _Anywhere_. That includes Antarctica, and Christmas shopping at the mall with her mom, who went racing from store to store waving coupons in the air and shouting at inept incompetent salespeople who wouldn't mark off three dollars for the hole in the red cardigan.

Nick put one foot into his pants as Lindsay guilty looked away. "Well I'll give you a ride and we can just explain that…um…we fell asleep listening to music or something."

"It'll never work," She said bitterly, holding a hand to her head. He didn't seem to be very worried…compared to her, whose heart was about to explode due to anxiety attack. How old did you have to be to have an aneurysm? 

"Sure it will, he said optimistically, now let's go."

~

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! SAMUAL WIER! WHAT IN THE WORLD!"

"HUH? Wha-?" Sam's head snapped up off the brown tile floor by a sudden jerk. Some cookie crumbs littered his forehead, and a faint purple mustache rimmed his mouth.

Cindy's head, also be-crumbled and grapeified, followed shortly thereafter. And her scream was definitely worthy competition for Mrs. Wier's. Sam was curled in a ball, encircled in Cindy's arms on the Wier kitchen floor. Things did _not_ look good…

"Oh my, oh my, HAROLD! Get in here! NOW!"

Mr. Wier entered the kitchen bleary-eyed and decked out in a classic red old man's bathrobe, muttering and rubbing his face, "for the love of god woman, what could possibly be so important to drag me out of bed at the ungodly hour of-_what in the bloody_-"

Mrs. Wier was just about hyperventilating by now, as Sam and Cindy leapt to their feet, stuttering and trying to explain their 'awkward' situation.

It was by pure luck or pure accident that Lindsay and Nick happened to have the worst, or best, timing in the world. Whispering to Nick that'd it probably be best if her parents didn't lay eyes on him right now (as Mr. Wier might get the notion into his head to chop up Nick with a pickaxe), Lindsay stepped into the already chaotic kitchen.

"Sam, I want an explanation _right now_, and OH! LINSDAY! Where have you been?" Mrs. Wier was not above shrieking at this point, and already it looked as if she'd burst into tears any moment.

Sam blinked at Lindsay. Lindsay blinked at Sam. Cindy fainted.

"Oh dear, now the girl's gone and fainted!"

"I think she's dead," Mr. Wier grumbled, "Something like this happened at my high-school to a bunch of kids, and want to know what happened to them? They DIED!"

"She's not dead Harold, just get me a cold cloth for her head. Their now, she'll be awake in no time--oh my. Samuel, why are their empty wine bottles on the floor?!"

"W-w-wine?" Sam stuttered and gasped.

"Hey way to go Sammy my man, you got wasted!" Nick, once again, had impeccable timing. He just had to stick his head through the kitchen door and cause even more problems.

"WHO IS THIS GUY?!?" Mr. Wier roared, spinning on his heel to face him.

"Nick Andopolis at your service sir, and might I say, you're looking quite well this morning." 

"Flattery is not going to work, boy, what have you done with MY daughter?!"

"Annapolis, what kind of name is that? I thought that was a city," Sam wondered aloud.

Harold Wier gasped and pointed his index finger at Nick, who merely grinned back at him. Jean Wier franticly tried to wake Cindy Saunders, who wasn't much help in the regain-consciousness-mission. Sam stared at a pile of empty wine bottles, which were just simply lying there. And Lindsay slapped a hand to her forehead in exasperation. Welcome to her life. Pure and utter chaos.


	2. Blue Destiny

~*Thanks so much for the reviews! After months (literally) of no ff.n contact whatsoever it's great to be back to such encouragement! Absolutely spiffy. On with the show.*~

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Ch.2-Blue Destiny

"Please, please oh god, I swear I'll _never_ cuss again, or even keep yogurt after the expiration date, if just _please_ don't be blue!" Lindsay prayed with every molecule of hope intermingled with desperation within her. The rest of her life depended entirely on a tiny slip of paper, all of fate to be determined by the simple changing of a color. A heavy burden for the tiny paper indeed.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, almost as if she never wanted to open them, never know her destiny. She was too scared. Too scared it'd turn blue. Yet as is most often the case, curiosity prevailed. Taking a deep breath her eyelids fluttered up, and she beheld the rest of her life.

To her great dismay and misfortune; the slip was blue.

~

"Um, hey is Cindy there?"

"Sam is that you?"

"Yea, it's me. Um I know you probably don't want to talk to me right now…but I just had to call to see if, you know, how your parents were reacting and stuff." 

He heard an audible sigh on the other end of the line, "ok I guess. I mean they totally trust me, so that's good. And I explained that we just fell asleep, and they believed me. Only…they're kind of skeptical about the wine. They don't believe it was an accident."

"Yea I just wanted to apologize for getting you drunk again, I swear I didn't know it wasn't grape juice."

"It's ok Sam, but I think for now on we shouldn't really be seen with each other or anything…just have some space ok?"

"Oh, um yea, I was gonna suggest the same thing. So ah, see you Monday? Or not see you, I guess."

"Yea, something like that. See ya." The tiny annoying beep that meant she had hung up rang through his head like an echo. He couldn't pretend he wasn't crushed. He had just lost all chances with Cindy. She didn't even want to be seen with him. What a horrible, awful morning. Fate could sure be cruel.

~

"What am I going to do?!" Lindsay moaned for the hundredth time that hour. Pacing her room in the ever-familiar circle she cried and lamented to her bedroom walls, as if they could actually hear her angst. She was doomed. Her entire life was over, before it had ever really began, and all for some stupid, needy, selfish guy. More like jerk. He was such a jerk. This was all his fault! He had gotten her in this mess.

Yet she knew that wasn't entirely true, and she knew she couldn't hold him responsible. She was the guilty party as much as him…as the old saying goes, it takes two to tango.

Yet she couldn't help but feel a bubbling sense of rage that he, he who claimed to love her so, was irresponsible enough to neglect looking out for her general welfare.

She bit her pinky nail and watched the blood ooze from the crack. "Damn, that hurts," she muttered and frowned. Although it _was_ a welcome distraction from her bigger problems…

Taking a deep breath she resolved to actually _do_ something about her situation instead of just cry about it. "I've got to tell someone. I can't keep this to myself…I'll explode! It's too big of a secret. But who do I tell?"

A mental list of all the people in her life composed itself in her mind. One by one, name by name she scanned it, searching for the perfect match.

Her parents? Out of the question. She'd be lectured to the brink of sanity, not to mention grounded, and would loose their trust, and in the worst-case scenario be thrown out on the streets to live out of a cardboard box. "That's ridiculous," she muttered, "they wouldn't kick me out of the house just because I'm pregnant! Or…would they?" Shaking her head as if to get rid of that disturbing thought, she moved on to the next person on her master list.

Sam? No, he wouldn't be much good. He'd probably just be traumatized. She didn't want to be responsible for years of therapy.

A girl, she needed to tell a girl. Kim? No…Kim would never, could never, be sympathetic to her plight…or could she? She had surely gone through the experience of being full of anxiety, waiting for her period and counting days it was late, after every time right? Yet Lindsay wasn't sure she even liked Kim much…let alone trusted her with her secret.

A friend. Millie! She had fallen back on Millie before…but surely Millie would be traumatized to. She was so naive, Lindsay just didn't have the heart to corrupt her so, or load her problems onto her friend's innocent back.

Then there was Nick…the father of her currently still-an-embryo unborn baby…the obvious choice. Yet she really didn't think she had the guts to tell him he was going to be a father. She couldn't even admit to herself that she was going to be a mother…at sixteen. Sixteen! So young, so many things unaccomplished…what happened? She was supposed to go to college, get married, them maybe have some kids. But now all of that was in fast-forward, and college was out of the picture. She'd be lucky if she finished high school.

Well she still had to tell _someone_, and of all the choices…well, no one was really the best. Wait, backtrack…Kim. It'd have to be Kim. She was a friend, well, at least an acquaintance of her age group, and a girl…and she had experience with this sort of problem. If anyone could help her it'd be Kim. But how to ask her? Just call her up and say, "hey, I need your help. I have a problem, I'm kind of pregnant"? Was it that simple? Well, it was either that or face this alone. And she knew she didn't have the strength to fly solo. 

~

"Where are they?" Sam leaned against the telephone poll, frowning at the empty road. He watched the world idly float by and wondered where in the world his friends were.

When the bus pulled up at the spot he had no choice but to board it. He wasn't about to ruin his perfect attendance record for two lousy (not to mention not very punctual) guys.

Glancing around worriedly to double check they were just down the street running for their lives, he stepped aboard and plopped down in the first seat he saw open. Clutching his backpack he tried to reassure himself that Neal and Bill, however coincidentally, where both sick at home with some strange flu or something. What other explanation could there be? They waited at the bus stop for each other, then rode the bus to school every day. (As freshman they were too young to drive to school, something Neal bemoaned nearly every day to and from school.) That was the sacred routine, unbroken by anything but dire illnesses on a deathbed. 

It was while staring out the window at nothing he heard it; a loud unmistakable gauwffing laugh that could only belong to none other than Bill Haverchuck. Sam's head turned to the sound of laughter behind him…as his smile turned to a frown upon seeing Bill and Gordon roll some dice on a math book.

"Ok Gorgon, Elven Ranger, the dice have spoken! 2D6…that's eight points of damage, and you are now un-conscience my good man." That was unmistakably the voice of none-other-than the class stink bomb, Gordon.

"Have I stabilized yet?" Bill asked worriedly, pushing his glasses up his long nose.

"Nope, but Chitulu is apparently on your side, 'cause here comes Meepal, the party cleric!"

It wasn't the idea of Bill and Gordon playing Dungeons and Dragons together, it was the idea of playing D&D, his ultimate favorite RPG (roll-playing-game, ie: imaginary scenarios usually dictated by a set of rules and dice game, for all you people out there who don't speak D&D) in the whole world, without _him_. Whatever happened to the plan? The one were the famous trio _always_ sit together on the bus. It was like, the law. And where in the hell was Neal? Was the entire universe falling apart or something?

~

"Pass this back," Lindsey whispered to the girl behind her, who, with a brief look of annoyance, obliged. A year ago Linsdey wouldn't have been caught dead passing notes in class. She thought it was stupid to be so disrespectful to the teacher, especially if all the dumb note contained was mindless drivel on what time the mall closes. But this wasn't last-year anymore, this was now, and she couldn't give a damn about a sale on nail polish and eyebrow wax, this was serious.

Rarely did Kim bother showing up for class, especially one as mundane as Spanish (they had been reviewing the preterite tense for weeks now, over and over and over again, like a really bad sci-fi movie with lots of time distortion), but Kim's mom had recently kicked into mother-mode and threatened to throw away all of Kim's dark black eye-shadow if she didn't pull up her grades. Normally Kim would have just rolled her eyes and hidden Midnight Madness underneath some floorboards, but her mom had confiscated it all before she made her threat, and was holding every color hostage over the garbage disposal. Hence Kim actually being found _inside_ a classroom.

Scanning her eyes over the paper Kim's expression changed dramatically. A minute ago she was bored as hell, and would have given anything for a little excitement, but this wasn't exactly what she had in mind. Maybe she wasn't best friends with Lindsey, but she was the closet thing she had to a friend, and it was obvious she needed her help. _Oh god_, she thought, rereading the note again:

Kim, slight problem. Me and Nick like did it, and it's blue, HELP!!

~

"How come you didn't wait for me Bill?" Sam asked, confronting his friends in the lunch-line.

"What? Sam, oh, hi."

"Yea, hi. How come you were sitting with Gordon?" He was not to be diverted! Operation Answer was underway.

"Well Gordon and I worked on our science project all weekend, and played some D&D too. He got a new set of dice."

"So?"

"And some really life-like character figurines. There's even a half-orc barbarian, you know how rare those are--"

"I don't _care_. You still should have waited," Sam said grumpily, making a disgusted face at the "mystery meat," or as he suspected, old dog-chow. 

"Sorry. But he made a new quest!"

What was the point? Of like, anything.

~

"Why are you smiling like that?" Ken asked in his blasé voice.

"Smiling like what, I'm not smiling." Nick said, smiling.

"Yea you are."

"No I'm not."

"Yea. You are."

"Will you two quit it?" Daniel asked, looking at himself in his pocket mirror. "I'm trying to do my hair."

"Oh, like that takes so much concentration," Ken said sarcastically.

"Shut up. At least I don't act like little kids like you two."

"All I wanted to know was why Nick was grinning is head off, jeeze."

Daniel turned around and scrutinized at Nick, who was humming to himself happily. Raising one eyebrow he started to grin, "Nick man, you are so obvious."

"Huh?" Both Nick and Ken asked.

"He got laid, duh!"

"What?" Ken asked, for once any traces of sarcasm mysteriously missing.

"Way to score man, how was she?"

Nick blushed, unused to so much attention. Usually it was Daniel who bragged about his nightly affairs.

"Oh come on guys,"

"Come on what? You _did_ do it, right?"

"Yea."

"Hey it was Lindsey huh?"

"Damn, I didn't know she'd give it so easy."

"Shut up you guys--"

"Relax man, we won't tell a soul, cross our hearts. Now lets cut and go hunt down Joey for some pot to celebrate. You really need to chill out."

~

Sam left the lunch-line--tray loaded down with lumpy mashed potatoes and what was supposed to be coleslaw but more resembled barf--and headed for the usual table. Only no one was there. No Neal, no Bill. Totally weird. But what was even more odd was that Alan White, his sworn enemy Alan, was calling out to him to join his table, without the slightest hint of sarcasm. _It must be a trick_, Sam thought, _I'll just ignore him_.

Pretending he didn't hear, Sam headed in the opposite direction. But to his dismay Alan followed, practically leaping out of his chair, and cut off Sam's escape.

"Hey man I was calling you," he said.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled, preparing to have fried chicken dumped on his head, or some other such typical-Alan-torture. "But I already spent my lunch-money. If you want my Jell-O though, you can have it."

"Hey man, you got me all wrong, I'm your friend! Walk with me," taking Sam by the shoulders he spun him around and started walking towards his table, toting Sam along with him. Friends, right. Oh well, at least the worst of the summer heat was over and his locker shouldn't be _too_ hot. And maybe the hall monitor would rescue him again.

"Hey Sam!"

"Yo man, wassup?"

"What's kickin' Sammy?"

Sam blinked. About ten different people, all popular, were greeting him, as Alan shoved him into the seat beside him, grinning and exclaiming in a low voice, "we heard what happened, Cindy Sanders, way to go!"

"Huh?" Was his only reply. What were these people _talking_ about?

"Yeah man, total score. Didn't know you had it in ya pygmy."

Alan shot a dirty look at the guy who called Sam a pygmy. "Sam is the man."

Sam gulped. These strange creatures were obviously speaking a different language. They were probably discussing which pot to boil him in, the big one or the extra big one. Soon they would bring out war paint and wooden masks, and start dancing around the fire, chanting prayers to their gods and discussing how he'd taste better, roasted on a spit or boiled alive. Either way, they'd definitely need to get more salt. (btw, I mean absolutely no disrespect to anyone who prays to spirit gods or participates in any such rituals. I'm just writing what I think would be in Sam's head in this situation; I apologize in advice for any offense taken.) Fortunately just then he was saved by the bell, literally, as everyone bounded up to their separate classes. What just happened here? Miraculously he had survived an encounter with the dreaded school bully and lived to tell about it. Surely the planets had aligned themselves differently this morning, and everything was shifting out of balance. Either that or life was just its normal chaotic self.

~*~

More next time hopefully J (and I still don't own a thing, except for maybe bad coleslaw.) Reviews of course appreciated and worshipped. I print 'em out and put 'em on a little altar, with offerings of whatever I saved from the cafeteria at lunch and some hamsters. Toddles for now!


	3. The End of Aquarius (Decisions & Such Wo...

Note: I think an old episode of Boy Meets World got lodged in my sub-conscience and emerged itself last chapter (and this one too), so yea, kudos and credit to the creators of that show for inspiration.

And oh, yeah, I have no idea how much abortions cost or whatever, so sorry if my information is a bit off. I'm really to lazy to go research it and I have an algebra test tomorrow, so yea, there's my flimsy excuse. Back to the (still-hopefully-enjoyable) story. 

****

Ch.3-The End of Aquarius (aka: decisions & such wotnots)

"So like, what's the plan, Linds?" Kim asked, chewing on some gum.

"I haven't got that far yet, I kinda hoped you could help me."

"First you've got to decide girl."

"Decide what?" Linsdey watched Kim blow a bubble, pop it with her tongue, and then start chewing again. A slow and methodic pattern, over and over and over again, oddly very agitating.

"Linsd, seriously, you know what you have to do…right?" _God_, Kim thought to herself, _this kid has _no _clue about anything, how in the hell is she gonna survive? Good thing she's got me…although I don't know how much help I can possibly be…_

Linsdey sighed and shifted her weight. "Yeah, I know," she choked out, gulping. This wasn't exactly easy. She had grown up in a fiercely advent Republican home…what would her parents think? Life was really hard sometimes. Make that all the time.

"So like, I know this guy right…" Kim stopped at Linsdey's weird look. As if she could read her mind she said, "_no_, I never had to go to him…some of my friends did…anyhow that's not the point. The point is you'll need six hundred bucks, minimum. And that's if he likes you."

"Six…six _hundred_?" Her jaw dropped in shock. Unbelievable! She had what, seventy, eighty bucks, maybe, including the money Grandma had left her and rusty quarters she found lurking under couch pillows.

"Yup. Hey are you all right, you look kinda pale. Kinda like that girl in that movie, you know the one with the vampires?" Pop went another bubble.

"Could you PLEASE stop chewing that gum!" Linsdey shouted out, surprising even herself.

"God, sorry, it's not my fault you're knocked up, you don't have to act like a bitch when I was just trying to help."

"Wait Kim, I'm sorry!" called to Kim's retreating back. Great. Just great. "I think I'll lock myself in my room, delusion myself into thinking that none of this is happening, and then pray, really, really hard." She muttered. (ß thanks Elizabeth :) 

~

"Neal! _There_ you are! Why weren't you at the bus?" Sam magically reappeared at Neal's shoulder, handing him a few sheets of paper; "Here are my math notes by the way. You can borrow them and make copies."

"Yeah, thanks."

"So where were you?"

"Um…doctor's appointment." Neal said in a clipped voice, stuffing the notes in his bag.

"Ok…well, anyhow, you should have seen Bill today. He was hanging out with _Gordon_. I mean, not that there's anything wrong with him, I just didn't know they were so close--"

"_Look_ Sam, just because a person acts slightly different from how they used to be doesn't mean there's anything _wrong_ with them! It's called _growing up_! Is that _such_ a hard concept?"

"Wo Neal, I'm sorry I just meant--"

"And what the hell is _Borderline Personality Disorder_ anyhow? Who comes up with this stuff? I want a second opinion I tell you, my mother always told me to make sure I got a second opinion, and she's right, doctors these days think they know everything, well I'm getting a second opinion!"

"Um…ok Neal…how much coleslaw did you eat? I heard the lunch lady accidentally left her fake teeth in a big vat of it--"

"HEY SAM!" a voice bellowed down the hall, followed by a pair of arms that swept Sam up in the giant herd.

"Hey Neal! I'll talk to you later ok!"

"Yeah, right, whatever. Beam me up off this hellhole that is high-school Scottie, ASAP."

~

"Just tell him already and get if over with."

"_Kim_!"

"What?"

"I _can't_."

"Sure you can't, it's easy. Just go up to him and say, 'hey Nick, what's shakin'. Look, you kinda got me pregnant, so can you cough up a couple hundred bucks to pay for the operation? Thanks, mi amigo."

Lindsey shook her head at Kim's daring nerve. "No. I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No…I can't. You can't possibly understand."

"Well I'm trying here, I can only work with what I've got."

Linsdey sighed and absently blew a strand of hair away from her face. "So…you really think I should tell him?"

"Go for it. Just don't take too long, I never watched the Human Development video but I know those things don't just like, stop growing because you want them to. Ewww Linsd! Watch the shoes!"

Just then a janitor walked by and shook his head. Great. Yet another puddle of puke for him to clean up.

~

"So Sam my man, there's gonna be this like, totally-kick-ass party Friday night at Chad's house, you're in right?"

"Um…"

"'Cause like, everyone's going."

"Oh, yeah, well, I can't drive so I won't have a ride so, you know…"

"Hey no problemo! My cuz, he's eighteen, can give you a lift in his Vett. It's a sweet ride man, dark blue with white racing stripes, chicks really dig it."

"Not that Sammy here needs a _car_ to impress the ladies!"

Sam smiled weakly at the chortles echoing around him. It was still pretty unbelievable. He was popular. Sam Wier, well liked and hanging with the in-crowd. Yup, someone was _definitely_ messing with the universe.

~

Cindy wiped the tears off her wet cheeks, but it was no use, they kept flowing despite her best attempt to stop them. Her head snapped up out of the folds of a tissue when the door opened, as she dashed into a toilet stall and stuck her feet up on the seat cover so no one could detect her presence.

"So like, are you going to Chad's party Friday night?"

"I don't know, I have like nothing to wear!"

Cindy swallowed a sniffle. That should be her out there, talking with her friends about what shoes would match her sweater for the party of the year.

"Tell me about it. My mom is like _so_ last century. I get less than five bucks a week allowance! How is a girl supposed to shop on that?"

Idly she read the writing scribbled on the door, toilet paper dispenser, and in every available corner of the stall. Anything to keep from thinking about what the girls out there were talking about.

Hey ladies! Call (323) 849-5610 if you want a good time with Stevie the Stud!!

__

That is so stupid, she thought languidly, _'the Stud?' what a pompous jerk. You'd have to be a moron to like actually call._

"Hey! I heard that Chad's parents are going out of town, and he ordered fireworks with their check book!"

"No _way_? Seriously? That would be like so cool."

Jennifer is a royal bitch.

Jessica is worse, she is such a skank.

__

Why do girls have to put each other down all the time? Cindy wondered. _Are we really_ that_ insecure?_

"And you know how big his house is right? Well there's going to be like eight bedrooms there…and a basement."

Slut List!

Abby Mitchel

Megan Hausman

Sandi Q.

Sandi L.

Lauren Gallar

Cindy Sanders

Keyla Fodly

Cindy nearly choked. Her name written on the wall…her reputation completely shot down…all her hard work living up to everyone's expectation of 'little miss perfect', with perfect grades, perfect body, perfect boyfriends, the kid whom mothers always speak of nicely, and tell their own kids to take a leaf out of her book…down the drain, for something that never even happened, something she didn't even _do_…

"Ten bucks Cindy Sanders is there--"

"With Sam Wier!"

"Yeah, totally."

There went any remains of her mascara.

~

"Hey Nick…we need to talk."

"Ooh…the talk, better watch out man, that's a bad sign."

Linsdey glared at Daniel, something she normally didn't do, but it just seemed like there was this voice screaming in her head and the heat was rising and her brain was about to explode and she just wanted him to shut up. He ignored her, as usual.

"Sure Linsd, what's up?" Nick asked, smiling at her. He was so happy, so very, very happy. Nothing could spoil his wonderful mood. Even if his dad yelled at him to go to college, or he messed up his drum solo, or he ran out of pot, what did it really matter? He had a great girl by his side, that was all that counts.

"Alone." She said, attempting to sound firm and wincing as her voice wavered.

"Yeah, ok."

They were now standing behind some bleachers by the burnout patio, out of eavesdropping range.

She took a deep breath. _Oh GOD_, the voice screamed in her head, _ohgodohgodohgodohmygod_.

"Nick…"

"Yeah?"

"Ok this isn't easy so don't interrupt me cause then I might not be able to get out what I have to say and its really important--" She realized she was babbling and abruptly shut her mouth.

"Hey wait…" His voice took on a sudden twinge of panic, "you're…you're not breaking up with me, are you?"

He gulped and she just had to laugh. Hysterical laughter ripped from her throat and tore through the air, piercing the harsh chilly atmosphere. It sounded crude and spontaneous, even to her ears. Oh if only breaking up with a boyfriend were the least of her worries.

"No Nick, sorry to disappoint you but if anyone does the breaking up it will have to be you."

His sigh of relief was audible.

"However, we do have one other slight problem."

He raised his eyebrows quizzically. "I'm pregnant." Shock took the place of confusement, as he dropped to the ground in a dead faint.

~

Oo…is it getting interesting yet? Nick fainted ::giggles hysterically:: that's it, I'm switching to decaff.

And as for the title…I don't know…the song was playing it my head for some obscure reason. Probably because my dad went into retro mode and was dusting off all his old records. Anyhow. Yeah. 

(BTW--we're going to see a slightly darker side to all our characters, especially Neal and even cheery, peppy Cindy. Slightly-out-of-character but it is my story and who says the chars can't grow in different directions? Anyhoozle just letting y'all know in advance.)


	4. Freakin' and Leapin'

I know, I know, I haven't posted in a while, I'm so sorry! It took me awhile to gather some inspiration. But yea, rest assured the story is NOT dead, regardless of what Mr. Wier says. (I LOVE riding the Mr. Wier's death-obsession train…it is so much freakin' fun!)

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except bad tuna, which I certainly don't want, and will therefore immediately give away to some alley cats, leaving me with nothing but plot-holes again. Oh well. 

~*~

****

Ch.-4--Freakin' and Leapin'

"Oh my God, Nick! Nick, are you all right?" Lindsey dropped to the ground beside her unconscious boyfriend as the rest of the freaks uncharacteristically leaped off the bleachers en suit (freaks don't leap, sure they may jump up and down a bit, but that's only if really loud music is playing the background or their shoes are on fire.)

"Wo, Linds, what happened?"

"Yea, why is Nick lying on the ground looking like shit?"

"I don't know! He just passed out…"

"What did you say to him anyway? Did you dump him or something?"

"HELLO! There's a half-dead guy sprawled on the ground! Can't you do something productive and go get help instead of asking me stupid, pointless questions?" She was starting to get hysterical with panic. 

"Jesus you don't have to be a bitch about it, we're going, we're going…wait, where are we supposed to go?"

"The nurse dumbass."

"Shut up Kim."

"Err-oo, eRoo (::siren noises::), calling emergency medical backup, rescue mission is underway…"

"Not funny Ken, we need the…oh, um, hi, Mr. Rosso!"

"Hi kids…one of you want to tell me what's going on here?"

"Er, nothing! Nick just had some bad tuna at lunch…"

"Bad tuna or bad dope?" The guidance counselor sighed and shook his head, "when will you kids learn?"

The freaks glanced around the circle encasing the senseless Nick, _crap crap crap crap CRAP_.

Ten minutes later Lindsey was slumped in an uncomfortable brown chair outside the principal's office, staring miserably at a poster that read, "all learning is dangerous, do you dare?" in big, bold letters. Learning? _Dangerous?_ As opposed to peer pressure, drugs, sex, malicious gossip, wild parties--general high-school life? These people needed to put things in perspective. Sure, logarithms and correct punctuation was scary, but it was hardly in the same league as alcoholic acid-addicts having anonymous sex, or, in Lindsey's case, awaiting a meeting with the high school dean.

The rest of the freaks were also scattered about the comfortless furniture gazing at the cheerless décor, well, all the freaks exempting Nick. Rosso-the-Bosso hadn't bought the "bad tuna" lie (although given the cafeteria's notorious reputation, the idea was not entirely out of the realm of possibility), promptly assuming that Nick had overdosed on some contraband narcotics, and insisted on calling 911. Lindsey had tried to explain that Nick _really_ didn't need his stomach pumped; and indeed, by the time the ambulance arrived with blazing sirens, and loaded the still-inanimate-Nick onto a stretcher, he had begun to regain consciousness, and was seriously confused to wake up on a portable cot surrounded by the entire curious student body. On-lookers were gawking and whispering like gerbils--thrilled at the idea of getting out of class to watch a real-live scandal unfold. The principal was squawking orders, certain that the whole thing could only mean one thing; bad publicity and loudmouth concerned parents. The ambulance personals were scratching their heads in confusion; never had a patient recovered _before_ they arrived at the hospital. In the end they carried him anyway, even though he insisted, repeatedly, he was perfectly fine (if a bit dazed). Daniel was grinning and riding the attention train, Lindsey overheard him crow to a bunch of sacred-looking-freshman that, "I was there when he passed out, man, it was totally wild!" Kim wasn't much help with clearing up the miscommunication, as she was rolling around on the floor in stitches, slinging her arms around Ken's neck to keep from falling down. Ken, per usual, looked bored.

Linsdey covered her face in her hands before teachers hollered to their students "to get back to class, there was nothing to see," and the ambulance scurried off, and the principal tried to recover from a near-heart-attack-experience, and Mr. Rosso wagged his finger in the freaks' faces and pointed down the long hall to the dreaded office of doom, where phone calls to parents would be made, and punishment-sentences would be extended unto eternity.

~

"Oh my god, Linsdey, are you all right?" Were the first words out of Jean's mouth, the second being, "are you high?"

"Mom! No!" Mothers--ever the source of humiliation and suspicion.

Harold started to grumble, "I got a call from the principal while I was at work, I was talking to an important customer who buys out our entire stock every year! I had to stop serving him some of the good brandy to pick up the phone! Do you know what would have happened if we lost his business and he went to those dirtbags competitors of ours, with their stupid slogan, 'we'll suSPORT you!'? We wouldn't have anything to eat! And then we'd DIE!"

"I saw the ambulance leaving, and I was so worried…" Kim's mother piped up, magically producing the façade of being the epitome of a nice, concerned mother.

Kim rolled her eyes and muttered, "yea, right."

"Hey why isn't my mum here?"

"We couldn't reach her Daniel, but rest assured, your parents WILL be notified of the situation."

Daniel grinned, knowing that his parents would hardly care. They were completely oblivious to anything in his life; they still thought he was in middle school and liked PB&J sandwiches and golf (he went through a brief golf-phase in the seventh grade…although he has completely blocked the traumatic memory out of his head, so let's just not mention it to him, shall we? Excellent). 

"What exactly _is_ the situation here?" Harold grunted, "if someone doesn't tell me what's going on soon, I'm going to DIE!"

"DIE? Die? Who's died?"

"No one's died Mrs. Miller!"

"Except whatever sanity the world had left," Lindsey sighed.

~

Cindy sniffled and peeked outside the bathroom door; good, the coast was clear. The hallways were unusually silent, even when class was in session there was always a few kids lurking about, trying to take as long as possible "to get a drink of water." But she didn't question the abnormality of it all; she was just relieved she'd be able to get to Spanish class unnoticed.

In fact, for the rest of the week the Sam-Cindy incident had died down to virtual non-existence, and the Nick-incidence reigned supreme. All anyone could talk about was the "OD," even though the only thing Nick had overdosed on was shock. Regardless, everyone, including the administration, were convinced that some "freaked-out junkie" had swallowed a bit too much of his medicine.

Linsdey's parents weren't thrilled with the situation, but were relieved that she hadn't smoked, snorted, swallowed, or otherwise injected anything illegal and dangerous into her system. They refused however, to believe that her friend had just had some rotten fish, and insisted that she never see him again, which was of course completely illogical, something they failed to recognize.

"No, no, no, NEVER!"

"But dad, Nick didn't even do anything! He just passed out!"

"NO! Now be quiet and eat your meatballs."

"I don't even like meatballs…" she grumbled, as Sam deftly swept them onto his plate.

"Harold…are you sure--"

"YES! For the love of god woman, we need some discipline in this house! First Lindsey spends the night with that, that _boy_ (he said the word as if it was disgusting to be a member of the male gender), and then our youngest son gets drunk with that girl, and then this guy passed out at school! I'm noticing a trend here, both our children have been running amok, out all night doing god-knows-what with god-knows-who, before we know it they'll end up DEAD!"

With the pronunciation of the word 'dead' Mr. Wier's fist slammed down onto the table, causing a lone meatball that was perched precariously over the edge of the table to topple over and fall through the wide expanse of space onto the kitchen tiles. A long-buried childhood song arose from its slumber and played in Linsdey's mind; "on top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese, I lost my poor meatball, when somebody sneezed. It rolled off the table, and onto the floor, and then my poor meatball, rolled out of the door…" and Lindsey knew, in that instant, she would have given anything to be an escaping meatball. 

~

The freaks were hardly freaked out with the situation; their parents grumbled and toted them home, and the principal couldn't technically give them detention since they hadn't done anything wrong, and if anything they found the whole situation hilarious.

Nick actually enjoyed all the fuss about him, as he got to miss school for two days and eat free ice cream and red Jell-O. His father, upon reassurance from many doctors that no, there were no drugs involved, though Nick did seem to have an unusually large thyroid gland, didn't even get that mad. The initial reaction that is pure fear upon hearing that your child is in the hospital took awhile to wear off, and Nick looked forward to the blissful prospect of minimal nagging about going to college or joining the army. That is, however, until he realized what had prompted his fainting in the first place.

"So you're really pregnant?" Nick asked soulfully when Lindsey came to visit (her parents thought she was still in her room writing an essay on Mozart.)

"Yea…but how are you feeling?"

"Pretty good. I like ice cream, even if it is a bit plain."

"I figured," she grinned, "I brought you sprinkles," and tossed the multi-colored specks of artificial flavoring on his bed, "cheers."

"Aww, Linds, thanks!"

"No prob."

"So, like, what are we gonna do, about, you know?"

Lindsey sighed wearily, "that's the thing…I don't suppose you have six hundred dollars?"

~*~

I know this chapter was a bit weird, it was pretty short, we didn't see too much of the geeks, and the whole scene was rather over-dramatic, but then again, such is writer's inspiration. It's so very fickle. Anyhow, the next ch. will be chalk-full of our favorite D&D-playing trio, so stay tuned. More later :)


	5. Midnight Calls & Screaming Fiendish Dire...

Hello! Time for the latest installment of G&B (yay!). And I just want to thank you all for your fabulously encouraging reviews, I had more or less given up on this story but your dedicated loyalty inspired me to get my fat ass off the couch and start typing. So kudos to all you reviewers :)

Does anyone remember if Lindsey has a phone in her room? I wasn't sure and since Fox-Family got taken over by ABC the reruns have stopped and I (stupidly) don't have any episodes taped. Gurg. Well. In this story she doesn't, or if she does, she can't use it because her parents will raid the phone bill and ask who she called at 11:31 am on a Saturday night, whereas if the call was made via the main line it could have been anybody and no one has any evidence against her…right, that works. Read on. 

~*~

****

Ch.5-Midnight Calls & Screaming Fiendish Dire Weasels

"God, can you believe he like, totally overdosed?" Trilled an annoying voice from the lip-glossed mouth of a perky girl decked out in cheerleader uniform.

"Oh I like know, what a freak," chimed an agreement. 

"Yea, all his friends are freaks too. All they do is get high and have sex."

"I am SO glad there aren't any freaks in _our_ grade."

"Yea, like, no one does drugs or has sex…"

"Well…Cindy…"

"Oh my god you're right! She's so like them! She's SUCH a freak!"

"Yea! She should go hang out with those other losers."

"Totally."

Her face was blank. Normally she would have hurled herself into a ball on the cold toilet seat and sobbed wretchedly until bio started, but she was past the tears and the pain. When everyone had thought she was little miss perfect that was who she strove to become. Now everyone thought she was one of them--a _freak_. Well she'd show them what a freak she could be. She'd been dictating her personality and her life by the point of views of others--what they thought of her, if they liked her expensive clothes, what boys asked her out and what girls wanted to sit with her at lunch. Well, she was an expert at the game by now. They thought she was a freak? They didn't know the meaning of the word--she'd have to teach them.

~

"Hey Bill, so have you heard about Nick?" Sam asked, frowning at his lock, trying to remember the combination.

"No," he mumbled absentmindedly. 

"Where have you been?" Neal asked incredulously.

"I've been playing D&D…I'm now fifteenth level! I can shoot fireballs!"

"Screw your fireballs Bill, this is big news!" OMG, I'm sorry, I can not resist the urge to laugh hysterically right now, I know it was totally out-of-character…but c'mon, "screw your fireballs Bill"? LOL!!!

"Are you gonna tell me what happened all ready?"

"Hey guys, is my code 7-28-0?"

"Well Nick, you know, that guy that Lindsey hangs out with," Neal made a disgusted face; he vaguely knew that there was something more than friendship going on between the sleazy pothead and his beloved sophomore crush, "he passed out yesterday in the middle of the courtyard! Everyone's saying he overdosed on some sort of illegal stimulants. And Sam, I think that's the first three digits for some sex-hotline."

"Ew! No…"

"So did he?"

"Seven is s, two is e, eight is--"

"Forget it, I think it starts with a six anyway…then a nine, then what?"

"Did he what?"

"Take too many drugs at one time, cause that's really dangerous, my mom told me."

"Do you believe everything your mom tells you Bill? And Sam, Sam, do you know nothing you naive little boy? Six-nine? Oy."

"What? Is it my fault my locker combination is perverted? I hate perverts."

"Yea and my mom's really smart. She went to two years of junior college."

"Whatever."

"I got to go anyway, me and Gordon are gonna go fight some screaming fiendish dire weasels."

"Hey, wait up! I'll play too."

"Sam, oh."

"Oh, what?"

"Well…it's just, you'd have to roll up a new character and start it at level three or something, because it wouldn't be fair to just be a fifteenth level like me when you haven't earned any experience points, and we're fighting _dire_ weasels remember…"

"Oh. Fine. Forget it. I got to, um, go talk to my bio teacher about, y'know, that thing we have to do…"

"K. Bye."

"Everyone is a screaming fiendish dire weasel in high school," Neal muttered. The hallway was empty, and he was once again all alone.

~

"So like, what did Linds tell Nick anyway?" Daniel asked lazily. He was stretched out on the bleachers idly watching a troupe of freshman pant and gasp for air as they ran around the field track. 

"Nothing."

"C'mon Kim, we know you know."

"_No_ asshole," Kim scowled.

"Is she moving out of town or something?"

The blond girl rolled her eyes, "no, that's not even close."

"Did she break up with him? That's so typical of her."

"Yea, I always knew she was a player."

Kim stayed silent, although she was really laughing inside. Innocent little Lindsey was hardly a player, even if she did manage to get herself pregnant.

"Ah-ha! And the silence proves the truth; Lindsey is officially a slut. She uses a guy and then dumps him."

"Kinda like Kim."

"Watch it Desario," Kim grumbled.

"Hey Kim, better be careful, before you know it Lindsey will catch up with you and you'll be out of the job as royal bitch," Ken said in a monotone.

"No way! I'm sluttier _and_ smarter than her, and at least I know how to not get pregnant--"

"Lindsey's PREGNANT? What?"

"Oh shit--wait you guys, she'd _kill_ me if she knew I told, just shut up all right!"

"Man this is big."

"Bigger than big."

"Bigger than your dick big."

~

"SA-AM, it's for you!" Lindsey called from the kitchen, juggling a glass of milk, some cookies, and the phone in one arm. The other was busy trying to disentangle her feet from the plastic wrapped cord. She'd been in a funk all day--walking into walls and gazing off into space. Her visit with Nick went surprisingly--well--all in all considering. She'd get the money. It wouldn't be fun, and it wouldn't be easy, but the plan would work. It was amazing what he had agreed to do for her.

"Is it Bill or Neal?"

"Um…neither, some kid named Alan."

"WHAT? Er, tell him I'm not home, tell him I went to the store because, because I ran out of glue!"

Lindsey shot her kid brother a weird look, "tell him yourself, I have to go calculate the half-life of Carbon-14."

Sam looked like he was going to piss in his pants from nervousness. Never, _ever_ had Alan the Bully called him at his house (excluding that one practical joke where someone on the other line breathed in a Dark Vader voice and Sam thought it was Bill and asked him when he was coming over to watch the Jerk and the mysterious prankster chortled on the other line that he was a wierdo and hung up, which might have been Alan)…wasn't tormenting him at school enough? He took a deep breath and answered apprehensively, "H-hello?"

"Sam! My man! All set to party?"

"What?"

"Aw stop kidding around, y'know, Chad's house, his parents have skipped town, it's tonight!"

"Er…"

"My cuz 'll be over in ten, seeya!"

"But wait! No, I'm…" The dial tone rang through the empty cord, "sick." Sam hung up and stared at the wall. Ten seconds later he was flying up the stairs, "where in the world are my socks?"

~

Down the hall Lindsey peeked out her door. Good, her parents were sound asleep and Sam had left for his first-ever high-school-party (after changing his shirt ten times…after all, the first high-school party is truly monumental …like your first middle-school party, except instead of kissing games there's free beer and people covered in shaving cream jumping off the roof.) She crept slowly down the stairs, taking care not to step on the creaky step second from the bottom.

She glanced around nervously while she dialed, and whispered into the pitted circle of plastic, "hello? Um, are you Roger? Er, yea, hello, I think my friend Kim talked to you the other day, I'm Lindsey--yes I'm the pregnant sixteen-year-old--the money? Well, I don't have it yet but--no wait! It's coming, I've already sold it and all I need is for the buyer to pay me, yes I'll hold. Thursday? This Thursday? Um, yea, I guess that works…ok, I'll be there, thanks."

She took a deep breath and hung up. Never in her entire life had a telephone call scared her so much, not even that time she was dared to call Jordan Blashek, the cutest guy in the sixth grade, at her friend's slumber party. And that seriously took a lot of guts.

~

Sam smiled and nodded his head, pretending he understood what these people were talking about. All around him milling about were strange creatures covered in glitter, denim, make-up, and leather, laughing at nothing, dancing to grating sounds of screeching, swallowing each other's faces in the dark corners of bedrooms and closets, loosely holding big red cups of yellow-brown liquid that tasted like piss. How could anybody possibly call this fun?

A plastic cup was shoved into his hands and he clutched at it like a lifeline. He felt awkward just standing around with nothing to do; at least if he was holding something he wouldn't look so out of place. "Drink up Sammy! It's good," hollered an unidentified voice. 

Sam smiled wearily and took a sip, fighting the urge to spit it back out again. With a barely contained look of disgust he swallowed, and gasped at the tingly feeling spreading down his throat. So _this_ was what beer tasted like! BLEGH! How in the world could anyone drink this, like, on purpose. He could understand if it fell in your mouth and you had too, or Dark Vader threatened to chop of your head if you didn't, but voluntarily? _Why_? It reminded him of the time he asked his mom if he could try a taste of her coffee and she had warned him that he probably wouldn't like it, but if he wanted to anyway go ahead. He had discovered that he should have just listened to his mom. Although I, personally, am a capachino fanatic, not that you care

"Hey Sam, why aren't you drinkin'? What are you, chicken?"

"No."

"BAUK! BAUK!"

"_C'mon_ Sam, don't be such a whimp."

"Fine, whatever," he mumbled, and gazed down into the murky clearish-yellow liquid. Just as he was about to take a gulp for the sake of avoiding adding "chicken" and "whimp" to the long list of cruel nicknames (he still hated "pygmy" with a passion), a hush spread through the room and all eyes turned towards the door. There, standing in the shadowy frame stood a girl dressed in all black. Fishnet stockings provided little cover for her otherwise exposed legs, due to a scandalously short leather mini-skirt. A ripped shirt missing its sleeves, back, and lower middle clad her upper body, along with black chokers and silver crosses dangling from her neck. Knee-high shiny boots and a seductive grin completed the ensemble.

Sam's forgotten cup lay abandoned as he gaped in horror at the sight before him. What had Cindy Sanders done to herself?

~*~

Dun dun dun! This is getting fun :)

__

Disclaimers: Nothing here is mine except the plot…not even that name, "Jordan Blashek"…sighs dreamily…ah to be in sixth grade, drooling over the class hunk with ten other girls crowded around the phonebook…sigh. Anyhow, he shouldn't mind that I borrowed his name, as I seriously doubt he's going to read this, but if he does, call me! I'm the girl you co-starred with in the sixth-grade play…right, anyhow, after that plea of desperation, on with the disclaimer. The characters all belong to the producers of the show and whoever else is affiliated with them. I claim nothing. And oh! Anyone watch the show Smallville? (seriously kickass show btw, Clark is amazingly adorable…hey, who isn't in love with superman?) Right well in one of the episodes Lana "goes through a disturbing change," to quote, and that's kinda like what's happening here. Only Lana was under a spell and didn't know what she was doing, and Cindy, last time I checked, wasn't bewitched. Anyhow the ideas are quite similar so kudos to the creators of Smallville for their inspiration, and credit and all that to them. Ok, see y'all later. 


	6. Mirages of Life (Where is God?)

Hello! I'm just writing this story by ear y'know, I mean, I more or less have the plot outlined out but each happy little scene comes from whatever pops into my head; I only hope I am consistent enough. This story is about…oh, 4/5 done, give or take a little. Then again, I'm having so much fun with it I might end up stretching it out for a while…someone tell me if it gets mundane and tiresome. As a matter of fact, someone tell me anything, anything at all about this story, please. I'll still write it off course if no one ever reviews again (which I totally deserve for abandoning y'all for so long) but I really, really am curious to see if there's still interest lurking about out there. It'd make me very happy. And we all want to make me happy, write? (hahaha--I seriously misspelled "right" (and they say I'm gifted) and then when Microsoft Word underlined it red and I went back to fix it, I realized I had inadvertently made a pun! Yay! Everyone loves puns :)Because happy cheese comes from…wait, no, I'm not a cow am I? Drats. Oh well, cows can't type anyway, and I _do_ come from sunny California, so yea…happy stories come from happy (human) authors. And yes, I acknowledge the fact that I just rambled on for centuries, but it doesn't really matter because most people don't read these notes, and if they do, well, hopefully they have found my random-run-on-sentences amusing, and will therefore decide to return the favor with a review! And all will be well. Read on.

It's also a bit on the darkish side--someone tell me if I need to up the rating ok? I think its ok, but confirmation would be nice.

And oh, I just watched Dogma and suddenly I'm in spiritual mode. So yea. Now you can read on.

~*~

****

Ch.6-Mirages of Life (Where is God?)

"C-cindy, is that you?" Sam asked wearily, trying to keep his jaw from dropping ten feet to the floor.

She rolled her eyes, "_duh_, who did you think it was, Sher?"

"It's just you look, um, different."

She grinned confidently, "I know, don't I look fabulous?"

"Er…"

While Sam was still racking his brains for an appropriate response that would express how disappointed he was in her actions and wouldn't be overly insulting (all he could think of was "what in the name of Steve Martin have you done to yourself you crazy psychotic drone who obviously came from out space?!") , he vaguely noticed that he had lost Cindy's attention, as her head was turned towards the keg in the back, her eyes glued to the tap. "'Scuse me Sam, I gotta go fill up."

And Sam stared at her retreating back, and wondered if there was a god.

~

"Kim, come _on_, don't try and play games with me…" Daniel complained, angry at the fact that his attempt to stick his hand down Kim's jeans had failed miserably. 

"Would you just chill? I'm not in the mood."

"You're _never_ in the mood lately…what's up with that?"

"Nothing," she said sulkily, eyes averted to the rearview mirror.

"C'mon Kimmy, I know you want me…you're just playing hard-to-get…"

"Daniel, get off! I said NO, Jesus Christ, what are you, thick or something?"

"Hey I'm not the one with the problem here, I'm not being a prude little bitch."

"At least I'm not an asshole like you," she said crossly.

"Man! This is enough! Why in the hell don't you want to have sex with me? What, do I reek or something?"

"Yea, you do," she snorted…"but that's not it…it's just, just, ugh, never mind."

"What? Come on, what?"

"Well…look at Lindsey, she's pregnant."

"So?"

"_So_ numbskull, that could be me."

"What? No way, you're prettier."

"Daniel! You're not listening…I could get pregnant."

"You won't get pregnant."

"How do you know?"

"What? I, I just do. Now come on Kimmy--"

"DANIEL! I don't want to have a baby! I'm not ready for that yet!"

"You could always get that operation thingy."

"Do you have six hundred bucks just in case?"

"Oh so what, now you're _charging_ for sex?"

"What! That's it! I'm leaving!"

"Good riddance!"

"Fuck off!

"Back atcha ho!"

~

The boy clutched his pillow tightly, hugging it for all it was worth. Despite being curled up under the covers he shivered from the icy winds blowing within his soul. The dark walls loomed tall and menacing, shadows danced like fire, taunting him and whispering secrets, even his rows of star wars collectibles seemed to be glaring at him out of their plastic casings. He knew within the deepest black hole of his heart that his existence on earth was utterly pointless. The world didn't know who he was, his parents didn't know who he really was, he didn't even know who he was.

"Get a grip," he whispered to himself in the dark, "you're Neal Schweiber, you love Steve Martin and sweater vests…and Lindsey Wier…"

His heart wrenched painfully and a muffled sob escaped. It was no use. The whole world was against him…but what was worst, he was against himself.

~

"I still can't believe you're going to sell your drum-set for me…I just, I don't know what to say." 

"Hey, don't worry about it," he shrugged, "it's my fault anyway."

She stared at the way her shoelaces drooped off her shoes, untied and depressed. Drifting. Just like her life after her grandmother died. Vague hazy memories of oatmeal cookies, too many cats, and a ready grin were consumed by pure unfiltered fear. Why? Where was god when her grandmother was dying? Where was god when she was lost, alone and confused, loosing her faith in everything that she had known? Where was god when it turned blue? Here was god. Here was a boy, a boy who loved something so much--dedicating his every waking moment to it--giving up his soul to save her. Here he was, willing to sacrifice the only thing that ever brought him happiness, so she wouldn't fall off life's tracks. No, god was not an old man in a white beard and long robe, god was the goodness that lived in every soul. She was blessed.

~

Sam watched her disappear into the dark bedroom, football player in toe. He had watched her tinkling laugh turn seductive, her gentle lips turn crimson, her whole beautiful body turn wild with beer and excitement. Guys had hung over her every word all night, glad to pour a refill on her slightest whim; her cup had never reached half-empty. It all made him want to cry with longing over who she had been…and with guilt. He knew in his guts it was all his fault. The whispers, the rumors, he couldn't pretend he didn't know…while he hadn't really minded them it suddenly occurred to him that she might. While it was perfectly acceptable for guys to have sex it was a totally different thing for a girl. She was a slut, a bitch, a back stabbing boyfriend stealer. She had only transformed into the gossip that had been spreading…she had lost her self, and all Sam could see was her ghost.

~

"So you have the money right?"

"Yea…all six hundred bucks."

"Cool. So like, when are you meeting the Doc again?"

"I have an appointment for Thursday."

"Hey, so like, need me to come? Or whatever."

"What? Oh, Kim, that'd be great…"

"Yea, well, you know, whatever. I had nothing else better to do anyway."

"Thanks," Lindsey said quietly and appreciatively. Kim Kelly, while not your typical girlfriend, as she would more likely run you over with her car than invite you to her house for a sleepover to watch the latest chick-flick, eat ice-cream, give you a makeover and gossip about cute guys, was still one hell of a friend.

~

"So what are you gonna do 'bout Lindsey?"

"Huh?" Nick asked, putting on his sneakers. He was leaving the hospital, today, _finally_ (he never thought he'd say this but green jello soon got old).

"We know 'bout her…situation, man, that's tough."

Nick glanced up through the hair falling into his face, "what? She told you?" He asked incredulously, that just didn't seem like Lindsey…

"Nah man, Kim let it slip. She was totally pissed, even though we told her, it's cool."

"So are you gonna marry her?"

"WHAT? Ken my man, how stoned _are_ you? Of course Nick ain't gonna marry her! Man, who'd want baggage at sixteen? That's messed."

Nick looked down at his beaten up tennis shoes. In truth he knew the question wasn't that unreasonable. When Lindsey had first told him she was pregnant, well ok, after he regained consciousness in the hospital and remembered she had told him she was pregnant, his first thought had been marriage. In fact, he had just begun to word his proposal when she asked him for the money. He was actually quite taken aback. An abortion seemed more radical than a wedding ceremony to him. In fact, the thought that she might want to get rid of it hadn't even occurred to him, and when it registered that she was yes, definitely not keeping it, he was almost appalled. Sure he was by no definition a republican, but they had made life together, brand new miraculous innocent _life_…he had even hoped he could name the baby Nick Jr.

"She's actually getting the operation," he said quietly, and no one picked up his tone of regret.

~

Sam left early, well early in party terms, half-an-hour past his bedtime though. The party sucked. It really did. Everyone was so superficial, giggling and dancing with random people just to make ex's jealous…and they were all so…so…_drunk_. Just plain messed up--like, seriously. It was pathetic. People couldn't have a good time unless they were chugging poison. (They didn't know the value of a good D&D game, where the only drink anybody needed to get a buzz was orange soda.) There were people vomiting on plush unstained carpets, people whose head were in the toilets because they had passed out and there friends thought it'd be funny to give them a swirlie, people way too drunk to drive yet getting behind the wheel anyway…what was the world coming too?

~

Lindsey took a deep breath. This was it. This was the moment of truth. The rest of her life balanced on the pinpoint edge of this one crucial moment. She felt like she was standing on the top of a two-dimensional plane above a sea of nothingness. If she took a single step the plane would shift, and she would have to scramble back to keep from sliding off the edge into nonexistence. "Damn mathletes," she muttered…after all, she was paralyzed with fear and all she could think about was geometry. Once again taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and imagined a cool tropical oasis in the midst of sand dunes and cacti. It was an image from childhood that never failed to relax her. "Life is one big mirage," she whispered, "you just have to look for what's real."

~*~

Next chapter is seriously exciting. It all sort of climaxes…and we'll see what happens--(warning: gets kinda dark). 'Till then!

REVIEW!


	7. Life is Like a Box of Chocolates...Excep...

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WARNING: VERY DARK!!! 

THANK-YOU shout-out to **Jill Elsye** for being the best reviewer ever!!! As well as Cameron Girl, Napa, Jules, Purpleglitter, Darth Pipes, Dulcey, Ravens Revenge, and Eller, you guys rock! Just wanted to say gracias :) 

And OH! Dilemma! It's the anti-writer's block, ie: I have TOO MANY ideas…oy. I've been considering Jill Elsye's idea on the miscarriage, and even though it was not in the original plan I can totally see Nick and Lindsey getting married and keeping the baby…or at least, until birthday…or should it live? OY! I'm mean after everything it seems kinda anti-climatic to just have the abortion and that's it…then again subtle endings like that can be powerful. Hmmmmm…maybe multiple endings? But I don't really like that idea; the closure is too confusing. Sigh. Sam is so much easier, I have the exact plan for him and everything ends…well I won't tell. But the point here is, to abort or not to abort? That is the question.

And as for the time sequence, it starts out (at the clinic/the party) Thursday night, jump to Friday morning with Sam at school along with the freaks.

And I realize I'm stealing a few ideas from Dirty Dancing here, then again I already did that with a whole bunch of other shows so yea. Kudos to them. And as long as we're on the disclaiming here, nothing belongs to me (except plot)! It's all the creators, producers, directors, etc. of the show 

~*~

****

Ch.7-Life is Like a Box of Chocolates…Except You're Missing the Guide on the Inside Cover

The dingy building reeked of blood and dirt. The gray walls sported splashes of puke-yellow; the carpet wasn't much better. Chipped plaster set the décor, along with hard wooden chairs that looked about as capable as Styrofoam cups of holding up a person's weight. The place was a disaster.

"This place is a disaster!" Lindsey hissed to Kim.

"What were you expecting, Buckingham Palace? Grow up."

"But it…it just doesn't look sanitary!"

Kim's sigh echoed through the tiny waiting room, "look, this is the only place that doesn't require parent's permission. You _don't_ want your mom and dad to know, right?"

"Of course I don't! Confidentiality is important…but this is…disgusting." She grimaced as her hand waved through the air, indicating the disreputable surroundings.

"Well it's either this or the hanger…now come _on_."

"Was that a _rat_?"

"Come ON!"

"I'm coming, Jesus…" note subtle use of God/death-reference

~

A yawn resounded from the lost depths beneath a mound of covers. A head of messy hair peaked out from behind the blankets as a circuitous hand stretched for the lamp switch. Sitting up, Sam groggily rubbed his eyes. He pulled on his clothes slowly and trekked to the bathroom to brush his teeth. _I'm almost out of Star Wars toothpaste_, he thought to himself, making a mental note to put it on his mom's To Buy list tacked onto the refrigerator by a banana-shaped magnet.

Sam steered towards the door, waved to his mom, grabbed a piece of toast, and headed off towards the bus stop whistling. Yet another day, only 27 more until the new edition of Kerplunk!

~

"Hey Daniel," Nick said lazily, scratching his ear.

"Oh, hey man…um, I guess you heard…" was his cryptic awkward response; he wasn't usually this fidgety. 

"Heard what?"

"Oh man, I don't want to have to tell you this…"

"What? Just spill it, come on."

"Well…it's Lindsey…"

"What about her?"

"Sh-she and Kim went to the clinic yesterday man, you know, to get it all taken care of…but the thing is, the thing is the doctor was a crock, and, and…she's in the hospital man, I'm so sorry--"

Nick didn't even hear the trail end of Daniel's mumbled deliverance of bad news; he was already flying down the hallway and through the painted heavy school doors….

~

Sam got on the bus and looked around, vaguely noticing a complete and utter absence of noise. He glanced at the bus driver; was he a new, extremely strict, ex-military-officer who commanded silence? Nope, same old fifty-year-old deaf man. Everyone looked grave and depressed--what was going on?

He spotted Bill and took his seat, "what's going on?" The sudden noise reverberated off the bus walls, making the question seem ten times louder.

"Shhh," Bill whispered unnecessarily, Sam had already picked up on the atmosphere and realized his mistake. He asked again, this time quietly. "The party last night…it got out of hand. People were really drunk and stuff. They had to call the police, and ambulances."

"What? Is everyone all right?"

"Three people are dead."

"Oh my God…"

~

"Lindsey…Lindsey, can you hear me?" Nick asked tearfully, his cheeks wet with sorrow.

"Wh-what?" She whispered hoarsely. What was happening? Where was she?

A hoarse "Oh my God!" came out in sobs, followed by a reverent "you're alive!"

"Of course I'm alive idiot, why wouldn't I be?" She grinned weakly. Even after near-death experiences she could still (remarkably) retain her sense of humor.

"The doctor was crazy, he just went in with a sharp stick or something…you hemorrhaged…Kim was there, she called Daniel, and he told me, and-and I was so scared…" he had to stop babbling to let the tears flow, when they passed he looked up, where his precious angel was resting in the white-sheeted hospital bed.

Her eyes widened--no wonder everything beneath her waist felt like it was on fire. Christ. And poor Nick, he looked totally aghast, "shh, it's ok Nick, really, I'm ok."

He smiled weakly, "the good news? You're, um, no longer pregnant. The bad news…I know this is so not what you need right now…but your parents are here." He wisely left the room as she sighed and grimaced. Time for the big showdown. She could already predict the anger, and the yelling, and the…tears?

"Oh my god, Lindsey, OH MY GOD!" Her mother was even more hysterical than Nick! And was, was her father--_crying_? Silent tears were rolling down his cheek…"we're so glad you're alive, my baby," Jean Weir whispered; and Lindsey could feel the room fill with the most purest form of perfection--the never-ending, unconditional love a parent has for their child…no matter how many times and how bad they screw up, they will always, _always_ find it in their hearts to forgive, and love again.

~

Sam stood behind the tall man in the 1930's bowler, staring at the piece of lint clinging to his tailcoats. He knew he should be listening to the words, letting them seep into his broken soul and absorb their weight and importance, but he couldn't. All he could do was watch the tiny piece of cotton lift up into the air with a small gust of wind. Memorized and dazed he felt the heaviness in the air, thick as concrete and just as painful. The words meant nothing to him. The minister driveled away and the assemblage of black-clad family members and friends murmured their amens and blessings and final good-byes. Methodically the white flowers were placed on the wooden lid, as the coffin was gently lowered down into the dust of the earth. Sam found he did not have the tears to cry, and he was sad.

Regret and sorrow filled his every being, but his silence forbade him from expressing his anguish. He could only imagine what her parents must be thinking and feeling, to have lost their only daughter when she was barely old enough to know what a first kiss was.

Eventually the procession shuffled away, heads bowed, hearts heavy, eyes stinging. The world went on, oblivious to the loss of a single little girl.

Right before the tail end of the cortege disappeared around the corner Sam leapt to his feet. His silence had strangled his soul and he was beyond logic and reason. Rushing to the front of the line he frantically began to speak, "You don't understand, any of you! Yea she died because of alcohol but why? Why did she drink? Because she thought that was what was expected of her, she thought, you all whispered about her behind her back! You betrayed her, and made her feel cheep and slutty and insignificant. What did she ever do to you, to any of you? What? WHAT?" Some uncles and older cousins had hastily hurried over and were vainly attempting to restrain him, but he ignored the flailing arms and scandalous stares. Harold Weir was about to join them but Lindsey lightly touched his shoulder. He understood her unspoken words--_he needs to speak, let him--_and lifted his chin a fraction higher. But suddenly Sam slumped, "but no, it was my fault too, all my fault, I _let_ you think what you would, I liked the attention…I liked being _accepted_ by you all, that's all anyone really wants, just to be accepted…that's all she wanted, that's all she ever really wanted…" His sobbing subsided to a hiccuping trickle, as the mourners watched with shocked expressions. And then he ran. As fast and as far as he humanly could, beyond the grass and the trees and the horizon and the pain…off where birds fly and pieces of lint linger, off into a hazy blur of Nothingness, where sleep could bring gentle peace.

When he awoke it was some time later, and the sun had come out from the gray clouds where it had been hiding all morning. Blinking he sat up, and saw Lindsey sitting on a tombstone above him. "Hey sleepyhead," she said softly.

"Hey." They were silent for a few minutes. Not the uncomfortable, awkward kind of silence, but the complacent, mellow silence that says more than any words ever could.

"Are mom and dad mad?" He finally asked, breaking the hushed stillness.

"Not really, they understand, or are at least _trying_ to understand."

"Lemme guess, Dad is smugly saying 'I told you so! I told you that this happened to me when I was a teenager, and everybody DIED!'"

She laughed, "not quite, but I'm sure he'll grumble about it later."

More silence.

"Bill and Neal were really worried about you y'know. Bill said something about how sorry he was he didn't let you join a dungeons and dragons game? And for now on you can be a twentieth level character whenever you want. God knows what language you geeks are speaking." Sam smiled. "And Neal recommended a good psychologist. Apparently Dr. Paterson has done wonders for him, and he's already starting to 'love the simple things in life, like daffodils' again."

I guess this has kinda been a crazy time for all of us then?"

"Yea, well, that's what's growing up is all about kid. Now c'mon, let's go home."

~

****

Epilogue-Life Goes On

"I keep telling you, we're just really good friends."

"R_iiiiiiii_ght, and that's why you're practically joined at the hip?"

"Yea, and look at you and Daniel!"

"Oh yea I know, the new and improved version of him is great. He's like, finally woken up, and is actually like, _appreciating_ me, the bastard," Kim smiled affectionately. Things were back on track for the classic couple, and they were acting as if they had just first fallen in love. As for Lindsey and Nick…

"It's totally normal to have platonic relationships with guys you know," slight pause, "then again…"

"Then again? Boyfriends are even better?"

Nick was such a sweetie, and in light of the near-death experience their relationship had taken on a new and deeper meaning. "And we're more like…_interested_ friends…"

"Hey whatever, sex is sex. Oo, let's go raid the Liquor store and get some slushies, I feel like strawberry."

Meanwhile:

"Ok, I'm gonna hurl a fireball at the dragon."

"Ooh, he takes 34 points of damage! That's gotta hurt."

"Hey Neal, pass the chips."

"Did I dodge his claws?"

"Yea, barely. You were lucky!"

"These are really good chips, where does your mom buy them? I want to tell my mom to buy them too."

"I dunno Bill, why don't you ask her? And oh, can I power your mace? I have an idea!"

Life was slowly returning to normal.

~*~

~*~Saphron~*~

Well, that's it, G&B is over. Finito. Done! What will I do with my time now? HmmMmm…(my keyboard is speaking to me: 'more fics' it's whispering…) Oy yes, well, I hope y'all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it and all that. Thanks always for ever being the loyal faithful readers/reviewers! Hope t'see y'all soon when I venture out on any new ficys, hehe. Anyhoozle. (I think I'm procrastinating on finishing this fic…) I'm seriously off now so cheerio…seriously…I'm leaving, cause the story is over, right, so yea. Leaving. Lalala. G'bye.


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